Wistful Winds
by Nuadha
Summary: How does one become an airbender? And what of those who don't? A oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Legend of Korra and do not financially profit from this fanfiction.

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The autumn leaves leaves danced across the courtyard, their fragile forms creating an ever-moving pattern of brown and pale green against the grey stone. Lobsang gazed at the scene, his yellow robes flapping against his thin frame. He sat down on the cool stone bench overlooking the sunken centre of the courtyard. Choden would arrive shortly.

His thoughts turned outward as he waited. The rhythm of his breath grew soft. He closed his eyes, allowing his other senses to heighten. He felt the air caress his face and surround his body, tugging at his clothing. He couldn't see, but the various currents in the air around him were as apparent as the midday sun. He attempted to move himself outward, to feel beyond his limited bodily senses, and touch the airflows.

A gust of wind blew away that thought and Lobsang's eyes snapped open. In the corner of his eye, he could see Tenzin's son, Meelo, and his daughter, Ikki, jumping from the red-tiled rooftop. Ordinarily, to see such young children engaging in such activities would be a cause for concern. However, these were no ordinary children. They landed softly on the hard stone, laughing loudly. The cause of this cacophony became clear when their sister, Jinora, came bounding over the rooftop after them, her teeth bared.

"I'll get you two for that," she yelled. "Not even father will be able to face my wrath!"

In response, the two younger siblings moved into a classic airbending stance and began pelting their sister with the leaves which littered the impromptu battlefield, before turning and running out of the courtyard and out of sight. Jinora pulled a few stray twigs from her hair, growling in annoyance. She kicked herself off the roof and allowed the air to carry her to the far side of the courtyard, resuming her chase.

Lobsang sighed.

A soft voice spoke behind him. "The spirits can be cruel, can't they?"

Lobsang turned to see a female acolyte. She wore a smile on her face, accentuating the lines which had accumulated over her many years. Her robes were red, in contrast to his yellow garments.

"Choden," he said, a broad smile spreading across his features. "Please, sit." He gestured towards the empty space beside him on the bench.

She gracefully rounded the bench and sat down beside him. She pulled a small package from the interior of her robes, placed it on her lap and began undoing the string holding the brown paper together. The paper fell flat, revealing a bundle of sweetmeats. Choden unstuck one of the pieces of sugared fruit and handed it to Lobsang.

The monk popped the fruit into his mouth, allowing the sugar crystals to dissolve on his tongue. The sweet was followed by sour as the sugar gave way to the dried fruit.

"Nice, aren't they", said Choden, smiling once again. "Tenzin rarely allows such treats on the island. He claims it's air-bender tradition to shun such frivolous pleasures for long periods of time."

Lobsang swallowed the piece of fruit. "I heard that practice only began after his first child was born."

Choden chuckled, the sound whispered through every nook and cranny of the courtyard and into Lobsang's ears. "Disguising parenting as tradition doesn't seem like such a bad way of getting your children to eat all their vegetables."

A faint smile crossed Lobsang's face, as he looked sideways at his companion. "And the collateral damage?"

She shrugged, her robes heaving with the motion. "We're monks. Sacrifice is our lot in life." She glanced at Lobsang, seeing that his smile had been replaced by a frown. "What's troubling you, Lobsang?"

The young monk bowed his head and studied his shoes. "I took the test."

Her expression grew soft, the laughter lines of her face fading. "Ah." She raised a hand and placed it gently on Lobsang's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He gave a hollow laugh. "Why should you be sorry? It _is_ tradition, after all."

Choden removed her outstretched hand from his shoulder and folded her arms. "Lobsang, don't do this to yourself."

The man looked up, his face crumpled into tired grimace. "It's easier for you. You joined the order, I grew up in it. You were tested when you were initiated; I travelled here from the Northern Temple to be tested. I was two years old when I was initiated!"

Choden pursed her lips. "Tenzin vehemently expressed his disapproval of that practice."

Lobsang threw up his arms in response. "Why? It _is _tradition. It's what the air-nomads did before the hundred year war. Why is he against that, when he so slavishly clings to the tradition of only testing once! You'd think he'd be trying everything he could to continue the legacy!"

Choden gave him a tolerant smile. "So, you can't airbend. Get used to it."

Lobsang looked askance at her, his arms folded. "What," he said flatly.

"If you can't airbend, then you can't airbend. There is no point pining over what you can't have." She groaned loudly. "This is one of our basic tenants. What do they teach you at that sorry excuse for an air temple?"

Red spots flared in his cheeks and he fumbled his words. "Well-"

She arched her eyebrows. "Or could it be you just don't pay attention."

Lobsang's cheeks reddened further, taking on the hue of the sweetmeats on Choden's lap.

Choden picked up on of the candied fruits and gave it to Lobsang. "Rant over?"

The young monk placed the sweet in his mouth and looked away, nodding.

Choden broke into a smile once more. "Good. Meditation begins in a few minutes. You don't want to be late. It'll create a bad impression." She carefully closed the paper around the remaining sweetmeats, tying it with the string. Then she stood up and walked towards the entrance to the building, her robes brushing the autumnal detritus from her path as she walked.

When she was gone, Lobsang sighed once more. Around the courtyard, the leaves danced to a melancholy beat.


End file.
